


30 "Days" of Spine Whump

by MugWhumps



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Spine!whump, Steam Powered Giraffe (Band), War, Whump, but its mostly whump I swear, can't catch a break, okay maybe it has some crack mixed in too, poor Spine, whump prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MugWhumps/pseuds/MugWhumps
Summary: After finding literally the only whump prompt list that catered to robot characters (made by whumptopia on Tumblr), I've decided to try my hand at some SPG fanfic. Will update tags and characters according to chapters. Enjoy!Note: Chelsea and Camille will play only minor roles if they show up at all, considering they're real people, not characters. I don't appreciate RPF.
Comments: 36
Kudos: 58





	1. Low Power Cells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first chapter of my first SPG fic! Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as is positive feedback. If you want to find this prompt list, you can visit whumptopia on Tumblr. Just a warning, I may skip or tone down some of the prompts if they are too intense for me. I love whump, but I admit some stuff is a bit too much for me to write. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

The Spine couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this tired, at least not recently. He shouldn’t have even been as exhausted as he was; it was only one show, and Rabbit and Zero and even the humans were fine, so why was he, the most technologically sophisticated of them all, feeling like a strong gust of wind could blow him over? 

_It must be a virus,_ Spine thought furiously as he dragged himself backstage for the umpteenth time to help Peter Walter load up more equipment. His head ticked obnoxiously to the side; once, twice, three times in a row, and he jerked it back irritably, steam curling up from between his lips as he huffed. His legs squeaked with every step, his dorsal heat-sync protrusions had gotten stuck and refused to slide back in, and every five seconds he almost completely forgot what he was doing. The Spine didn’t sleep, necessarily, but oh, what he would give to be able to power down for a solid day or two. 

“Come on,” he mumbled to himself as he slowly, painstakingly stooped down to pick up another heavy box, wincing as its weight pulled at his shoulders. “Just a few more hours, Spine. Can’t stop yet.” He rose up even slower than he had lowered himself, feeling like he was trying to carry Zero instead of a measly box that should feel like nothing more than a feather to his titanium build. “Y’ can’t leave this all to Pete, you’re not _that_ much of a jerk.” He lumbered across the stage towards the door on the far left, more and more steam spilling out from between plates, covering the room in a haze. He stopped abruptly, his right eye twitched, and he threw his head back with a long, dramatic groan, his whole body sagging. 

_Creak._

He was better than this. He was the mature one, the responsible one; he wasn’t supposed to shirk his duties just because of a pesky little virus.

_Creeaaak._

The Spine blinked confusedly and suddenly realized he had somehow made a complete one-eighty. He sighed and turned back to the door, the sigh turning into a yawn as he started walking towards it again.

_CREEEAAAAK._

“Jesus, Spine, we gotta get that checked out!” The Spine stopped in his tracks, swaying slightly, as the resident Walter heir kicked open the door with one leg and shoved his way in, holding a box of his own. “You weren’t nearly that creaky during the show, were you? I think I would’ve noticed if you were.” Peter VI stopped, cocked his head at him, and put down his box. “Spine? Hey—“

“Wha’?!” The silver robot jerked himself awake, not even having realized he was drifting off, and immediately dropped the box on his foot. “ _Gah,_ fudge on a—“ He stumbled back, chassis hissing and popping, and glared at the young Walter. “What?” He demanded, tone much sharper than he meant for it to be. Peter, more than used to the robots’ shenanigans and mood swings, remained unfazed. Well, at least, Spine _thought_ he did. Unless it was conveyed in body language alone, Six's emotions were difficult to decipher. He could be hiding any number of expressions behind his mask.

“What’s wrong with you?” The scientist said bluntly, arms folded. The Spine copied the motion, wincing slightly as his elbow joints squeaked loudly and obnoxiously. 

“Nothing. I’m just a bit tired after that show, is all. Need to charge up once we return to the Manor. Now,” he began, ignoring the way the room spun around him as he bent down to retrieve the box, “I’m going to ask that you please excuse me while I finish loading up these boxes. We can talk once we’re done.” Spine marched past Peter, only to jump slightly when a hand landed on his shoulder. 

“Spine, buddy, why don’t you just put that box down and go rest up until I’m done here, okay?” He said surprisingly gently, patting the gigantic automaton’s shoulder. Spine gripped the box tighter, annoyance welling up inside him to mask the greater feeling that was beginning to build: shame. 

“Peter,” he said with gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice measured. “I assure you, once again: I. Am. _Fine—_ Fine—Fine—Fine—Fine—“

“Ohhh boy,” Peter VI muttered, running a hand through his wild hair as he swiftly stepped back from the now malfunctioning robot. A thin line of steam jetted out from The Spine’s cheek as his head twitched rapidly, eyes blank as his voice box stuttered. “Uhhh—Chelsea?! Camille?” He cursed under his breath as Spine started to slump over, expelling unhealthy amounts of steam as his voice dipped lower and lower until it was barely audible. “Darn it, where are they?”

_“Fiiiiiiinnnne… Fiiiiiiinnnne… Fiiiiiiinnnnne…”_ Meanwhile, Spine was aware of nothing but a low buzzing in his ears, his surroundings slowly dissipating around him. _This ‘s nice,_ he thought dimly. _‘M jus’ gonna… take five…_

“Oh, God!” Peter jumped and clapped his hands over his ears just as Spine’s chassis teetered forwards, backwards, and finally, with a great creak, tipped over and sent two tons of heavy metal crashing down to the floor.

_SCRRRRSSSH!_

One beat passed, then another. Ears ringing, Peter gingerly removed his hands from them to stare down at the completely powered down robot laying limply on the floor, covering what was sure to be a few hundred dollars worth of a dent in the floorboards. Late to the party as usual, Q.W.E.R.T.Y.’s ever-smiling face popped up on the man's smartwatch. 

“WARNING: SPINE’S POWER CELLS RUNNING LOW.”

Six sighed, put a hand on his hip, and looked down at the AI wearily.

“... Thanks, Q.W.E.R.T.Y. Good job.”

* * *

SYSTEM REBOOT, ONLINE.

POWER CELLS STATUS: A-OKAY.

DORSAL HEAT-SYNC PROTRUSIONS: A-OKAY.

STEAM BOILER TURNOVER RATE: A-OKAY.

HIP-GYRATIONS: A-OKAY.

A-OKAY CONFIRMATION: A-OKAY.

SYSTEM POWERING ON IN FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE—

_NUMBER ONE SILVER ONLINE._

When The Spine came to, he felt better rested than he had in at least the last five years, let alone the past decade. He didn’t really remember how he had ended up back in the Hall of Wires, but that was okay. He didn’t really care, as long as he could just take a few minutes to gather himself and figure out how long he had been charging—

“The Spine?!”

“GAH!” Calm, relaxed state completely ruined, The Spine jerked fully awake as Zero’s voice sliced through the peaceful ( _So peaceful,_ he thought wistfully) quiet, the golden automaton’s finger poking at his nose. Eyes wide open, the older robot scowled instinctively, blinking and peering around as he struggled to get his optics to focus. “Wha— Zero, Zero _stop that_.” He slapped at his brother’s hand until he stopped poking him in the face. Wrinkling his nose, he looked down at him sternly and opened his mouth, only to let out a huff of air as Zero rammed into him with all the excitement and grace of an overgrown puppy. Had he not been used to his surprise tackle-hugs, Spine would have toppled over. 

“The Spine! You’re awake!”

“Yeah… Yeah, I am, Zero.” The Spine gingerly patted Zero on the back, now very confused. “... Uh, what day is it?”

“Tuesday!” The gold bot answered happily. “I thought you were gonna be powered down forever! You took _so long!_ ” 

“I— Wait, when did I power down?” Spine asked, dread starting to build up in the pit of his chassis. Zero, unconcerned, responded with the same enthusiasm as always.

“Saturday!”

And then it all came flooding back. The Spine immediately felt his face heating up in embarrassment as he remembered his argument with Peter Walter and what could only have been his subsequent collapse onto the floor. His shoulders sagged almost comically.

“Ohhh no, oh no,” he groaned, reaching up to press a hand to his face. “Oh _boy_ …”

“No, no, no, Spine, it’s fine,” Zero protested, pulling his fingers away from where they were pinching the bridge of his nose. “We got you all covered; Q.W.E.R.T.Y. and Bebop got your systems all patched up! And Six got the theater’s floor fixed, too! See? Everything’s all better!” This, however, did nothing to assuage Spine’s rapidly increasing stress levels.

“The _floor?_ ” He asked, horrified, before also remembering he weighed several tons. There was a sharp whistle as steam puffed out from him in his mortification. “ _Oh,_ oh _no._ ” He swiftly disentangled himself from Zero and began heading towards the door of the Hall of Wires. “Sorry Zero, but I have to go apologize to Peter.” He lowered his voice to a mutter, grumbling to himself. “The _floors_ , oh my God.”

“Wait, Spine!” Zero cried hurrying up to block him with a pout. “Whaddya mean, apologize? You don’t have anything to apologize for!”

“I—” Spine started, then stopped abruptly. “... What?” He stared at Zero, confused, then shook himself and started to go around him. “Zero, don’t be silly, of course I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” 

“No!” Zero blocked him again, arms crossed with a distinctly upset expression on his face. “Why are you doing the thing, Spine?” The Spine made a face.

“‘The thing’?” He asked, voice pitching up indignantly. “What thing? I don’t have a ‘thing’, why do you think I have a ‘thing’?”

“You know, the thing!” Zero pressed. “The thing where you’re all, _‘Oh, my problems don’t matter, I’m such a burden, I’m just gonna be all weird and stupid because I’m sad.’_ ” Spine was so insulted by the Eeyore voice his little brother had adopted in impersonating him that he almost missed the content of what he said. Almost.

“Zero, I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” The Spine said exasperatedly, now thoroughly baffled. 

“Well,” Zero began, playing with his hands, “You don’t make me or Rabbit apologize when we’re sleepy.” The Spine frowned.

“Well—”

“And you don’t care if we need to power down for a lil’ bit, even when we’re busy. _And_ you don’t get mad if we malfunction and accidentally break somethin’.” The Spine could see where this was going, and was starting to feel very uncomfortable and put on the spot. He swallowed, scratching the back of his head. “I just don’t get it, Spine. Why are you so mean to yourself?”

“I’m not _mean_ to myself, Zero,” Spine said quickly, scrambling for an explanation. “I just… I…”

_“I built you from the strongest metal I could find, Spine. I built you this way so you could protect your siblings. You can do that, right?”_

“... I’m supposed to be the strong one,” he whispered finally, his excuse falling flat. Zero looked so sad, and it made him feel like walking garbage. “I’m built out of titanium, my software has been updated routinely, I’m supposed to function _properly_ , not just _break down_ for _no reason_ …” 

This time when Zero hugged him, it didn’t feel like he was being bowled over. It was soft and gentle, and he had to swallow back tears that shouldn’t have been there.

“You’re not perfect, Th’ Spine,” Zero said quietly. “Doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been updated. It’s okay to not feel okay sometimes. That’s what you tell us, right?” And all the fight in him disappeared at once. The Spine sagged and returned the hug, and if he squeezed just a bit tighter than usual, Zero didn’t mention it. Zero was right, of course. _Imagine that._ It had been over a hundred years. Maybe he could take a leaf out of his own book, for once. 

“... Okay, Zero. Okay. Thanks.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've finally gotten down Zero's characterization: over-excited, childish, and completely oblivious to almost everything around him. Basically, a giant puppy. A robo puppy. Let me know if any of you caught the reference to their 2013 Walter Robotics Expo I snuck in there. And, if you haven't noticed, I use em dashes wildly and with no abandon. You're welcome.


	2. Voice Modulator Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is definitely more crack than whump, but I had to write this after going to the Leap Day Concert in February. David was super sick and couldn't sing, so they had a running joke throughout the show that The Spine had swallowed a bunch of broken glass and Captain Crunch. Thus, this. No, it's not my best work, but it amused me and I had fun writing it. Don't worry, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled whump program in the next chapter, I just had to get this out of my system. For now, though, enjoy some robot shenanigans.

“And you’re _absolutely sure_ you can’t fix me before the show?”

Walter Worker Chelsea sighed.

“For the millionth time, Spine, I’m _absolutely sure_ that I can’t. You’re just gonna have to do this show without singing.”

“But—But I’ve never done a show without singing before!” The Spine sputtered indignantly. “It’s been one hundred and four _years_ , I can’t just start now! I— _Ack—_ ” Roughly three seconds into his spiel, the silver automaton broke down into a series of dry, painful sounding coughs that rattled his chassis and sent steam spilling out from the vents on his back. Shaking her head, Chelsea grabbed a bottle of water and thrust it into his face.

“Drink.”

He pouted, but acquiesced, groaning pitifully as he set it back down after gulping down enough water to put an end to the coughing. Chelsea gave him a very pointed look.

“Fine,” he grumbled, slouching. “But I still don’t like it.”

The Spine hadn’t miscounted when he stated that he hadn’t missed singing at a show for the past century or so. He’d been “sick” during shows before, yes, whether with some minor rusty parts or malfunctioning bits of circuitry, but he’d never had his voice box damaged to the point where he could barely speak at a normal volume, let alone sing. Then again, there was a reason for that.

“This _is_ your fault, you know,” Walter Worker Camille piped up unhelpfully from the adjacent dressing room, reminding him of the very stupid reason. Spine groaned again and let his head flop down onto the plastic table.

Unfortunately, Camille was right. He had literally no excuse. Rabbit had dared him, and then Zero had joined in because one of his favorite pastimes was enabling Rabbit, and then Q.W.E.R.T.Y. somehow picked up on it and… Well…

“To be fair, it wasn’t even the glass that did it. It was the Captain Crunch.”

Now both Chelsea and Camille were leveling him with unimpressed looks, although they were both clearly trying hard not to snicker at his expense. He scowled.

Yes, The Spine—the Mature One, the Responsible One, the Smart One, The Spine—had thought it would be a good idea to see what would happen if he tried eating actual shards of broken glass mixed in with Captain Crunch. It was stupid, but so were all the rest of Rabbit’s ideas, and really, _why_ had he thought it so necessary to appease his sister and take her up on her dare in that moment? Robots weren’t designed for eating, and they _definitely_ weren’t designed for eating glass. Or Captain Crunch. Actually, for that matter, The Spine was convinced that no one was designed to safely eat Captain Crunch. Those sugary nuggets must have been engineered specifically to cut the roof of the mouths of any damned soul who tried to eat them. Long story short, it all ended badly, poor Peter Walter VI was forced to spend roughly an hour picking shards of glass and cereal out from his artificial esophagus, and now he had been going on a week and a half unable to talk without sounding like a human who had smoked for forty-some-odd years. Or sing… at all. And now, here he was: thirty minutes from going onstage, voice modulators busted, unable to even sing backup, and with two Blue Matter engineers laughing at him.

He definitely deserved it.

“Look, it’ll be fine.” Chelsea tried to placate him, clearly noticing his surly attitude. “You can still do all the runaway bits you want to pad out the set. You guys are good at that.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean,” Camille quipped easily, snapping her gloves on.

“Look, everyone knows the fans come for all the talking.” The Spine paused, then tacked on an addendum to that declaration. “And ‘Honeybee’.”

“I don’t know, something tells me they’ll miss your songs, too, Mr. ‘Diamonds’,” Chelsea countered, smiling. She glanced at her phone, then sobered up once she saw the time. “We need to get to the merch table, Spine. You’ll do great; Rabbit and Zero will help you out. Besides, there’s always another show.” The Spine looked up at her reassuring face and let out a long breath of air he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. She was right; the Walter Workers always were.

“You’re right,” he relented, voicing his thoughts out loud. He smiled back at the two sisters and nodded at them. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Camille replied, and the blue-haired ballet dancers strode out into the lobby where fans were no doubt lining up. No sooner did they leave than Zero popped his head in.

“The Spine?” He called curiously, then brightened upon seeing the taller robot sitting in a chair just slightly too small for him. “The Spine! Hi! How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Zero,” he said, and this time he was being honest. There would always be other shows, just like Chelsea said, and besides, they could at least make a good bit out of this—not that the audience needed to know it was anything more than just a bit, though. He stood up to join his bandmates in getting in a few more rounds of practice before the concert began, strangely looking forward to it despite his shot voice.

* * *

All in all, the Leap Day Concert had been a success. They had gotten a lot of laughs out of the audience (Mostly at The Spine’s expense, but really, how was that different from most shows?), and the whole crowd had been all too happy to sing for him on “Captain Albert Alexander”. Their new set went off without a hitch, and The Spine was definitely flattered by all the well-wishes expressed in the autograph line post-show. The night was great, would have been perfect— If only Rabbit hadn’t taken great joy in starting to call him “Captain Crunch”. Oh well. She still didn’t know that he had made a deal with G.G. to have the tiny metal demon of a giraffe crawl into her room via the air ducts and be her personal alarm clock at all hours of the night. He _always_ had the last laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I get Chelsea and Camille down right? Maybe, maybe not. Do I care? No, because they're real people who probably will have gotten more time in this chapter than they will in the entire fic. From listening to the Bennettarium, I've gathered that they appreciate sarcasm, which makes sense considering that they work with the Bennetts. And yes, the part about the audience singing lead on Captain Albert Alexander is true; they didn't want to scrap Camille, Chelsea, and Bunny's new mime/dance routine, so they had us sing for David. It went surprisingly well. Definitely a concert I'll never forget!


	3. Overheating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Southern California gets hot in the summer, and performing outside every day for a whole summer can't be very kind to electronic systems. At a panel David mentioned needing to go offstage at the zoo during a performance once because of what was likely heat exhaustion, and that anecdote spawned this. As someone who has had to do track meets in 100 plus degree weather, I don't envy SPG at all for enduring 74 days in a row at the zoo. Also, if any of you are one of the kind souls from the SPG Discord who helped me out with my question on how to characterize The Jon (I kept having trouble making him different from Zero), thank you for the advice! I think I've figured out how to write him better, but constructive criticism is always appreciated!

The Spine did not hate animals. He unfortunately didn’t get along with most of them (he had found that giraffes especially did not care for his shiny metal appearance, ironically enough), but he didn’t _hate_ them. He also was fine with crowds, liked being outside, and enjoyed partaking in an educational experience every now and then. By all rights, he should have been thrilled to be performing at the San Diego Zoo again. Now that it was the forty-second day in a row of standing in the hot sun right across from the flamingo pens that set off all the humans’ allergies, however, The Spine didn’t want to spend another second here. He would rather sit in the Hall of Wires all month being forced to babysit Q.W.E.R.T.Y. than wile away a third summer performing at the zoo. Yes, he was a tad bitter after getting less than five hours of stasis every night for the past month and a half. Sue him. _(Please don’t sue him.)_

Now that July was well into its run, the normally pleasant San Diego weather had devolved into a humid muck of unbearable heat. Looking out at the congregation of people who had stopped to watch their show, the silver robot could see even from his spot onstage that the majority of them were practically melting where they stood. The Spine didn’t sweat, per say, but that didn’t make the ninety-plus degree weather any more tolerable for him either. He and his siblings had been venting out steam almost nonstop since their last set, forced to drink all of their water and then dip into the humans’ bottles to refuel their boilers. He tried not to cringe as he watched Sam go to drink out of his canister, only to scowl when nothing but a drop came out. He smiled apologetically at the drummer, who just sighed and shook his head. They were definitely going to need to buy some overpriced water bottles from the zoo’s restaurant facilities. 

_“Out in the rain… Out in the sun…”_

The Spine wished it was raining right now. Then maybe they would have an excuse to take a day off. He was putting the bare minimum of effort into his harmonies and accompaniment for “Out In The Rain”, focused primarily on trying to find an angle to position himself by the piano where the sun wasn’t glaring directly in his eyes. After a good thirty seconds of shifting around awkwardly and trying to make it look like normal robot movements, he determined that it was impossible. His mind felt strangely fuzzy, had grown increasingly so over the course of the day, but he chalked it up to the painful brightness outside and general malaise brought on by the long stretch of shows. He decided to not pay it any mind; he had performed this song hundreds of times over. He didn’t have to focus _that_ hard anymore.

_“And let the rainshine light the sky…”_

Why was Rabbit staring at him like that? Wait…

_“Sky…”_

Crap. He had missed his harmony. The robot swiftly made up for it by riffing a bit on the piano. It didn’t sound nearly as good as usual, but it was decent enough to get some polite cheers from the quickly evaporating audience. The sun bounced off of The Jon’s bright, golden exterior and straight into The Spine’s face, and more steam hissed up from his vents as he blinked at the piercing light. _Right._ Heat. Not good for electronics.

_Just this last song,_ the automaton reminded himself as he diligently kept beat with his foot so as not to miss his next entrance. _Then you can drink the rest of Sam's water and make him buy us some more._ At this point he didn’t have the energy to feel bad for sucking up all of their H2O (and cash from Sam's pockets). Let them buy their own damn water.

_“Now you know better, so you say.”_

Now that was _definitely_ not the right note. Spine cursed under his breath, pressing his black lips together in embarrassment as a discordant note clanged out from the instrument and startled both the audience and the band. Sam threw a worried glance at him, and although Rabbit looked as composed as ever to any random passerby, The Spine could see the way she shifted slightly towards him, thrown off by the two mistakes in a row. His hands were slipping on the keys, and as he moved his them from one end of the piano to the other he caught a glimpse of black oil seeping out from his digits. He blinked and cocked his head to one side, alarmed. The same substance, wet and viscous, dripped slowly down the back of his neck, and he silently hoped that additional oil wasn’t leaking from the more visible parts of his body. This hope was dashed as he felt something slide down the bridge of his nose, and one or two fans started muttering among the throng of people. He frowned. _This… Is not good._

_“But if you don’t go out at all…”_

The Spine shifted his weight to his left side and immediately stumbled. Now even Jon, aloof as he was, looked confused, his playing of the guitar slowing for a moment. Spine shook himself, trying to reorient his center of gravity, only for his surroundings to start spinning like the Balboa Park Carousel. He couldn’t really see the audience anymore, couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t immediately in his line of sight. _Tunnel vision._ His head ticked to one side as his photoreceptors flickered and popped. _I should probably get off of the stage._ Everything felt uncomfortably hot, burning, even. How were his fingers not melting the keyboard underneath them? 

“Hey, Spine?”

The Spine blinked as Rabbit and The Jon continued the song without him. He wasn’t even trying to sing along anymore. On the other side of the piano, Sam was whispering to him as he played the bass, his words quiet enough without a mic to go unnoticed by the audience.

“Mmm?” The robot grumbled, feeling more and more irritable by the second as his chassis crossed the threshold of heat it was designed to handle.

“I think you need to go backstage, take a hot second. Song’s almost over, we can finish it.” 

“M’kay.” The Spine still didn’t move, zoning out completely, systems stuttering to a halt as he stared down at the piano blankly. He was supposed to be playing that, right? They were doing a show? He racked his CPU, but couldn’t for the life of him remember how he had gotten here. 

“ _Spine,_ ” Sam hissed. The Spine jerked out of his reverie, only to notice that smoke, not steam, was now curling up from his chassis. His brows furrowed heavily. _Well, that’s not r-r-right._

“Sam,” he said as he stepped back from the piano and straightened his vest. “I think I need to step offstage. My apologies.” The drummer’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“No, really? Come up with that all on your own, did you?” He quipped under his breath before joining into the song for the high parts. Just as Jon reached the second to last stanza, The Spine finally stumbled off of the low-standing stage to an outbreak of whispers from the crowd. The silver automaton made his way round to the side of their tiny dressing room and flopped down against the wall in a steaming, hissing pile of oil-streaked limbs. He was out like a light before he even hit the floor.

* * *

_“The Spine...”_

There was a voice coming from far away, disrupting the comfortable darkness of stasis. It was muffled as though emerging from underwater, and it grated on his ears. Disgruntled, he ignored it, nestling deeper into his unconscious state. 

_“Th’ Spine?”_

_Go away,_ he thought irritably. Who was trying to bother him right now? Why couldn’t he just rest in peace? He wished he was in the Hall of Wires. The door in, the only door in the whole mansion, would have kept this voice _out_.

_“_ Spine! _”_

“ _Wh…_ What?” The Spine finally groaned. About a foot above him, Rabbit’s concerned face swam into view. Upon his unintelligible response, the copper robot sighed in obvious relief, frown relaxing into a neutral expression.

“Hey, G-G-Goose. How ya doin’?” The eldest robot turned to talk to someone just outside of The Spine’s line of sight. “Jon, could ya—”

“I got it, Rabbit!” Now The Jon was joining his sister in front of Spine, shoving a canister of water an inch away from his nose. The silver automaton started and blinked rapidly, but reached up and took it with a shaky hand after a moment. His siblings watched anxiously as he downed the entire bottle in less than half a minute, making a contented noise as he finished. Steam puffed out from his vents as his body slowly began to restart itself with the help of his now full boiler. Sagging back against the wall he was propped up on, The Spine forced the other two robots into focus as he addressed them properly.

“Rabbit? Jon? What, uh… What happened?” He looked around, still blinking haltingly as the objects in the dressing room doubled and tripled around him. “...Did you guys finish the set okay?”

“Yeah! The flamingos thought it was really good,” The Jon supplied helpfully. He then screwed up his face and squinted at his older brother, skeptical. “You’re fine now, right, The Spine?” The robot in question tested each digit individually, then moved on to do the same with his limbs, wincing as the oil gummed up between his plates trickled down his metal exterior uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, I’m alright, Jon. I just gotta get cleaned up first, okay?”

“Okay!” Now content, the little golden robot bounced off to cause mayhem somewhere else. Now there was just Rabbit, arms crossed, lips pursed as she gave him the stink eye. _Here we go._

“What?”

“W-W-What do you mean, ‘what’? What happened t-to _you?_ ” She retorted. The typically irresponsible automaton was now reverting into Big Sister Mode, something that annoyed The Spine immensely. She had no right to act like she was the adult here when he had found her cramming an entire box of chocolate Moon Pies down her throat at one A.M. last night.

“I just overheated, Rabbit, it’s fine. Happens all the time when it’s hot out,” he said, humoring the copper bot as he started to pull himself to his feet. He got about halfway there when she flicked his ear. “ _Ow_ — _!_ ”

“Nuh-uh, cowb-b-boy,” she said, staring him down stubbornly. “You ain't goin’ nowhere until the sun goes down. Still too-t-too hot.” 

“Really now, Rabbit,” Spine huffed, leveling an equally dogged look back at his sister. “It was just a simple malfunction. As long as I make sure to drink more water, I’ll be fine.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Take it _easier,_ Sp-Spine,” Rabbit finally said, looking far more displeased than he thought she had any right to be. “Otherwise you’ll ju-just break down again next set, and then there won’t be anybody to wear tiny pocket mountains or stop Th’ Jon and me from forgetting to play the next song.”

“Pocket _squares_ , Rabbit. And it’s ‘The Jon and I’, not ‘The Jon and me’,” The Spine corrected. His sister pouted, and he sighed. “I’ll hang out here for a while then. ‘Take it easy’ and whatnot. You happy now?” Rabbit brightened.

“Yup!” She said smugly, popping the “p”. She trotted over to the table where a roll of paper towels was laying haphazardly, just about to tip onto the floor, and grabbed the whole roll. “N-Now, l-l-let’s getchya cleaned up.”

Spine opened his mouth, intent on telling the clockwork bot that he could do it himself, only to stop and reconsider. He _was_ feeling rather dizzy still, and his joints were all tight from misfiring. Besides, he was perfectly comfortable right here by the minifridge containing the last two water bottles. He exhaled through his nose, long and slow, and adjusted himself so that his older sister could start dabbing at the tiny rivers and lakes of oil splattered on his chassis. They sat like that for a few minutes in comfortable silence, The Spine occasionally taking sips out of the new bottle he’d cracked open and releasing gentle, fluffy clouds of steam into the room. Eventually, though, something occurred to him as he watched Rabbit get caught in one of her typical malfunctions, pitching forwards before righting herself. 

“Rabbit,” he said, brows furrowing, “How come _I_ got overheated but _you_ were fine? That makes no sense.”

“W-W-What’s that supposed t’ mean?” Rabbit replied indignantly, mechanical body shuddering to a stop in its ministrations. Spine raised one pointed eyebrow.

“Rabbit, you’re always breaking down. A strong gust of wind blows by and you break down.”

“N-N-N-Nuh-uh!” She protested with a pout. “Why, I haven’t broken down a single-single time today! Not once!” The Spine mentally reviewed their performance of “Honeybee” last set and snorted. “L-Look,” she pushed, ignoring her brother’s unconvinced response. “Some robuts are j-just more _advanced_ than others, Spine. Some of us are just built _better_. And funnier. And more-more attractive. And—”

“Rabbit! Rabbit, they have _ice cream!_ ” The Spine was thankful when their younger brother came bounding into the room, interrupting the copper bot’s speech. 

“Jon, they always sell ice cream at the zoo,” he said, despite knowing that the little golden automaton would forget this fact the second he powered down for the night, whether by accident or out of sheer disregard. 

“Sam gave me money for water,” The Jon continued, ignoring his older brother. “But I already _bought_ more water. And Jerry wants ice cream.” The Spine made a face. “Jerry” was the goldfish that supposedly lived in Jon’s stomach. He still had yet to see enough of it to prove it wasn’t just a mass hallucination. Rabbit jerked to attention next to him. 

“Well then we g-gotta get ice cream if _Jerry_ wants it!” Rabbit, on the other hand, wholeheartedly believed in the myth of Jerry the Goldfish. Once again, The Spine tried to speak some reason into his siblings.

“Rabbit, Jon, if you eat any ice cream it’s just gonna melt in your chassis, and then the Walter Workers will have to scrape it all out.”

“Ahhh! If _Rabbit_ eats it,” Jon said, raising a finger triumphantly. “ _My_ ice cream will go to Jerry.” The Spine pressed his lips together. It was true that Jon had a better track record than the rest of them when it came to eating food. Whether that was due to this magical goldfish that lived in his stomach or just the pure weirdness of Jon’s systems was unsure. The silver automaton sighed, a heavy stream of steam hissing out of his mouth. His companions tsked.

“Spiiiiiine,” Rabbit groaned. “Y’ gotta-gotta stop steamin’ like that. Drink your water.” The Spine obliged, pausing slightly when the answer to his earlier question occurred to him. They steamed when their systems were overworked, when they were stressed out in some way. He looked between Jon and Rabbit and thought about how many times he had already had to steer them out of trouble today, whether it was trying to poke their fingers through the fences of the animal enclosures or consume unhealthy amounts of ice cream. The conclusion was easy for him to reach. _Well,_ he thought dryly. _I guess I know now why I’m the one overheating instead of Rabbit._

“Can-Can we at least get some to look at, Th’ Spine?” His older (although she didn’t act like it) sister pleaded with puppy dog eyes. “We like to watch it m-melt.” The Jon nodded furiously beside her.

The Spine sighed. These two were going to be the death of him one day. Somehow, though, he found he didn’t care all that much. So what if he had to drink more water than usual to replace lost steam? It was worth it to make sure his siblings were being safe and responsible. Or… Or maybe he could actually try relaxing and going with the flow for once, rather than fight them every step of the way. He felt his shoulders ease down and back from their usual tense position, and the puffs of steam dissipated. 

“Alright. But can you guys get a rocky road? It looks better on the Instagram.” His siblings’ faces split wide open in happy grins. 

“I promise to get _all_ the rocky road they have!” Jon promised solemnly before dashing out the door. Spine exchanged a look with Rabbit.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t try stealing th-the cart,” she assured him. “You can c-c-count on me!” With a final salute and a rushed “Okay-Spine-bye!”, the copper robot was chasing after her golden brother. The Spine smiled as he drank some more water, adjusting his position against the wall and pulling his hat over his eyes. Maybe he _was_ wound up a bit too tight. Maybe it would do him some good to loosen up a smidge, at least until summer was over and he no longer had to worry so much about the amount of steam he was producing. Comfortable and feeling a little lighter, the silver robot settled in and waited for his family to return with an ungodly amount of rocky road ice cream.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone else who has binged random SPG live clips on YouTube, you may have noticed I stole the "please don't sue him" joke from a concert video from around 2014-2015. Spine made a comment on how their pop culture references were outdated cause they were old, and Hatchworth followed that up with "Sue us!" before quickly backtracking a few seconds later to "...Please don't sue us." I am probably gonna keep peppering in random jokes from concerts past throughout this fic, so consider them Easter eggs for you to find!


	4. Glitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? *nervous chuckle* I have been spending most of the summer trying to prep for my first year of college this fall, and fanfic writing had to take a backseat for a hot second. On top of this, the information that came to light about Michael Reed and Steve Negrete made me need to take a breather before throwing myself back into SPG again. I am still an active fan and am not abandoning this work, but I hope you understand my reasons for not publishing this sooner. You will notice I wrote Steve and Michael out of all previous chapters and removed them as characters; I replaced Steve with Peter Walter VI in the first chapter and gave any mentions they had in chapter three to Sam. If you catch any slip ups or mentions of them that I missed in editing, please please please let me know, and I will fix it immediately. 
> 
> On a happier note, I believe this chapter is my longest yet, so enjoy! I will try to get out my next chapter sooner than the twelve years it seemed to take me to post this one.

The three laws of robotics, recently developed in the 1942 by American science fiction author Isaac Asimov, are as follows: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm; a robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law; and a robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. Despite the fictional roots of these three Laws, the American public had taken to them quickly and decided to implement them wherever necessary—meaning, wherever there was even the mere semblance of a robot. Obviously, this applied rather heavily to the Walter bots.

Thanks to Blue Matter and the ingenuity of their father, the Singing Musical Automatons had long since been programmed with self preservation instincts and a moral code, the latter of which had expanded and grown to fit their ever changing knowledge of the world. Each robot had decided individually to retire their weapons unless absolutely necessary after the Weekend War, and were they human, this pact would have been enough. But they were not human, they were  _ other _ , and when it came time for them to reenter the battlefield, the U.S. military demanded more. Thus, the Korean War saw the installation of new protocols within the Walter robots under Peter Walter II and III. Oh, they could scorch as much earth as they wanted in combat, but back at base camp if even the gleam of one of their weapons was caught by the sunlight they would be incapacitated before they could blink. Their systems would freeze, they would be administered with a controlled shock, and their chassis would be carted over to engineering to be tinkered with to make sure such a thing didn’t happen again. At least, that was the plan.

See, what all the engineers and scientists and inventors in the world (except for the Walters, of course) hadn’t accounted for, couldn’t account for, was the very human willpower that came embedded in each automaton. Just as humans could achieve superhuman feats with the right concoction of duress and adrenaline, so could Colonel Walter’s Steam-Man Band. The automatons had just as much “heart” in them as any human did—it just manifested a little differently. So when The Spine came across a group of young soldiers in their platoon heckling The Jon, his temper, already short from the months of fighting away from home, nearly reached its fuse.

“Excuse me,” the towering automaton ground out, trying his damndest to smooth his face into something approaching politeness as he approached the five young men crowding the small gold bot. “But I believe you all have jobs to do.”

“So Tin Man is our commanding officer all of a sudden?” A sandy-haired, weasley looking man sneered. One of his companions spat in The Spine’s direction, and The Jon frowned.

“Hey, that wasn’t very nice,” the little robot protested, and Spine resisted the urge to facepalm. Jon had good intentions, but how he couldn’t see the open hostility on all the humans’ faces and act accordingly was a mystery to the older machine. Already the men were snorting with laughter, and Spine wrinkled his nose as one of them directed some unsavory insults towards his little brother.  _ I swear they get more foul-mouthed every year. _

“Yeah, cut it out, you don’t wanna make Tiny mad,” another man mocked. His jagged build and piggy eyes seemed familiar to The Spine, and he quickly remembered him as Jamison, the brute who had been poking fun at Rabbit for her stutter since day one. His irritation sharpened, and steam jetted out from his back in a thin line. The line fanned out into a larger plume as one of the men grabbed at Jon’s suspenders and yanked hard enough to make him go stumbling back to raucous laughter.

“I have to insist you return to your duties, soldiers,” The Spine repeated coldly, shouldering his way into the middle of the group and flicking away the offender’s hand. The immediate wince of pain that got from him gave the automaton great satisfaction. 

“Oh, well, if you  _ insist _ ,” the man who had spat at him earlier sniped, but the casual nature of his retort was betrayed by several of the soldiers around him putting their hands on their hips the second The Spine entered their personal space. Or, in Jamison’s case, pulling his gun out entirely and aiming the thing at the silver robot like the trigger-happy American he was. The metal man eyed it warily, but ultimately betrayed no other reaction.

“Yes, I do, in fact,  _ insist _ .” The Jon tugged nervously at Spine’s shirt.

“Spine—”

He pressed his younger brother’s hand back to his side with a sharp warning look. He had gotten himself into enough trouble as it was, he didn’t need to do anything more. Unfortunately, the sandy haired weasel of a man had already noticed the brief interaction.

“Oh, look, the poor baby’s scared,” he jeered. The group broke out into hysterics once more, and it was a pity they didn’t notice Jon scowl and say a curse that sent Spine reeling. He had absolutely no idea where his brother could have learned  _ that _ from, and he quickly decided he didn’t want to find out.

“No, Charlie, it’d have to feel things for that to happen.” Spine’s nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes, hand tightening on Jon’s shoulder.

“Who knows, maybe if we opened it up we’d find some fucking  _ feelings _ in there.” The Spine’s head ticked sharply to the side and Jon started forwards.

“Why, you little—”

“Everyone  _ shut up! _ ”

And for one blessed moment, the rowdy soldiers were shocked enough by the cold, mild mannered automaton finally blowing up that they did just that, staring at the space where his foot-long spines had just ripped through the back of his uniform. Spine suddenly realized he was clenching his fists and smoking as they all, Jon included, turned to look at him. He brought a shaking hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, breath short and sharp with pent up frustration. He briefly felt guilty including The Jon in his shout, but he had been running on empty and putting up with the human platoon’s  _ bullshit _ for so long that now he had little to no self control. Inhaling deeply and silently praying to some imaginary deity for patience, he kept rolling with it before anyone could come back down to reality and argue with him.

“Jon,” he started, purposefully softening his voice, “you head back to our tent and find Rabbit. I’m sure she’ll need help with something.” After waiting to receive a nod from his younger brother to make sure he understood, he turned his attention back to the humans. “As for the rest of you,” he continued, lip curling as his voice grew in volume. “I’m sure you all have better things to do than milling about, acting out like a pack of unruly thirteen year old boys. Get back to work.”

In hindsight, Spine knew he should have been calmer, should have been more diplomatic. He should have tried to appease the humans rather than antagonize them further. But in the heat of the moment... He was so tired of trying to ignore their behavior and pretend it was alright. He thought that maybe, just this once, he should try standing up for himself and his family instead of turning the other cheek like he was trained to do. And at first it seemed to work. He felt a rush of satisfaction at the soldiers’ indignance, at the way a few of them seemed rightly cowed and embarrassed by their behavior. But in the end... well. Humans never liked being told they were wrong. They never liked being told what to do. Especially not by someone they viewed as lesser. 

Jamison fired the gun in his hand, likely meaning for it to be a warning shot, but his rage clouded his aim and it pinged into The Jon’s foot. The little golden bot yelped, The Spine saw red, and suddenly Asimov’s laws were overridden by a purely emotional reaction The Spine hadn’t let himself succumb to in a very long time. Something popped inside him as he barreled his way through the blocks on his systems and swung a heavy metal fist right into Jamison’s face, his superhuman strength immediately shattering the soldier’s nose and sending hairline fractures spidering out across his cheekbones. He had just enough time to feel panic at the man’s howl of pain and the sharp realization of what he had done before his programming finally caught up to his actions.

_ WARNING! WARNING! FIRST LAW [A ROBOT MAY NOT INJURE A HUMAN BEING] HAS BEEN VIOLATED. SYSTEM SHUT-DOWN ENGAGED. ADMINISTERING A CONTROLLED SHOCK. _

_ “Ghh!” _ The world whited out as The Spine’s systems were flooded with enough electricity to kill a man, and he went down like a sack of bricks. He was dimly aware of several furious voices yelling, but he ignored it. “Jon—Captain—Get—” The shock was too much. Spine’s jaw locked up and he choked on the rest of the mangled order. He thought he heard footsteps, and hoped that The Jon had understood him. Captain Borcic had never been overly friendly, but he was a levelheaded man and at the very least wouldn’t want military equipment being damaged... hopefully. 

_ “Rogue... Danger... Tried to kill Jamison!”  _ Bits and pieces of the frenzied words of the soldiers bounced around in Spine’s head meaninglessly, slipping out of reach whenever he tried to process them. Something thunked into one of his twitching legs, and someone cursed.  _ Did someone... just try to kick me? _ If he hadn’t been in so much pain, Spine probably would’ve found that hilarious. He was made out of solid titanium, it was like kicking a tank.  _ Idiot. _

There was another deafening bang and something small and metallic embedded itself into his torso. Suddenly the silver robot was a lot more concerned.

_ Damn. _ He tried to force his chassis to its feet, but every small movement sent a new current of electricity coursing through his wires to knock him back down. The protocol had been installed specifically to immobilize and disorient the Walter robots, working under the assumption that they could hurt even each other if they went rogue. Problem was, Spine hadn’t gone rogue. He had reacted like any human would, and that was the catch, wasn’t it? He wasn’t human. He would never be human. He felt his insides sizzle from the continuous shock and let himself sink deeper and deeper into stasis as each of his systems shut down one by one.

_ Pop. _ He had already been unable to see from the intense shock, but he knew that his sensors must have been disabled when the clamor of the senseless mob ceased to exist. This was further proven when a second bullet pierced the gap in his shoulder plating soundlessly. The constant humming of concealed weaponry died away as his spines retracted and his Tesla coil powered off. Hot, stabbing pain ripped through his body as several bullets pounded into him at once, the men seeming to come to an agreement that he had finally gone haywire and needed to be put out of commission as soon as possible. He thought he might have tried to instinctively roll out of the way, but his chassis was useless locked up as it was, springs stretched taut. 

Bullets, even the most expensive grades, weren’t going to cause even a scratch to where his Blue Matter core was kept any time soon. Every Walter since Pappy had made sure to keep all the robots’ cores as secure and durable as possible for obvious reasons. If they burst, the things would release blasts like tiny nuclear bombs. So when it came to the rounds being fired off, The Spine knew he’d be fine. He could patch himself up easily, and be up and walking around again by tomorrow. But he had never violated one of the Three Laws. He didn’t know how long his systems would be disabled. Would it be just long enough to give those around him time to escape or secure him? Or would one of the Walters have to step in to power him back up?

Would the protocol try to override his sentience?

_ It will pass _ , he told himself.  _ It will pass. _ He tried to make himself believe it. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Even his pain receptors were getting shut down, only a small mercy considering it also meant he couldn’t tell where the rounds were being fired anymore. His CPU went next, and he hoped it was all part of the protocol and not from a bullet being fired into his metal skull.

* * *

“—Got to be kidding me.”

The Spine could hear now. That was good... Why could he hear again? What time was “now?”

“Complete morons... They’ll get all of us killed if they keep losing their shit and shooting at the help like cavemen who’ve never seen a machine before. Jesus Christ!”

_ Borcic?  _ Probably.  _ Ah. _ So the army engineers had been able to override the protocol after all. And judging by the absence of several gaping holes in his chassis, they had finished patching him up too. Now that the repairs were over, however, it was time to discipline the morons responsible for all this damage in the first place, and the Captain sounded furious. The Spine felt smug despite his incapacitated state.  _ Take them off the field, _ he chanted in his head silently.  _ Off the field, off the field... _

“Tell them I’ll be having some fucking words with them later.” Captain Borcic had never been one to mince his words. “And that I’ll be taking a machete to their pay.” Spine grumbled in disappointment. He had gotten his hopes up too high. 

“Sp-Sp-Spine!” Rabbit, of course, was sitting next to him, squeezing his hand hard enough to dent a finger or two. She sounded so worried, so very worried. Spine felt a brief pang of guilt at making his older sister sound like that. He cracked one eye open experimentally, then the other one. His vision was slightly fuzzy, but he could fix that easily. He blinked.

“Hello, Rabbit,” he tried to say. What really came out of his mouth was a long, irritable groan. Rabbit apparently appreciated the effort, because she flung herself at his prone body before catching herself and hugging him gently (which, for her, wasn’t very gentle at all—but Spine wasn’t complaining). “Mugggh.” He opened and closed his mouth, working his sore jaw. “Blegh.” He expected the copper automaton to laugh at his whining, to tease him for being grumpy like she always did. Instead, though, there was a tiny sob, and Spine stiffened in shock as his sister began to cry into his shoulder.

“Sp-Sp-Spine—Sp-Sp-Spine—” Her voice looped and crackled from stress as oil dripped onto The Spine’s uniform and stained it. He swallowed thickly, casting around for something to say that would make her stop being so—so  _ not-Rabbit _ . 

“Are…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Is everything okay?” He winced. This was why he never tried to comfort people. Rabbit’s crying slowed somewhat as she pulled away to stare at him, mouth agape, like he had said the moon was made of cheese. He shrugged, and immediately regretted it when the motion sent a pang through his entire torso that had him grinding his teeth together. Once she processed that he wasn’t joking, her expression quickly morphed from sad and scared to a heated glare.

“A-A-Are you seri- _ serious?! _ ” She seethed. “Wha— _ ’Is everything okay?’  _ Are you-you really th-that much of a-a-a dummins? Y-Y-You just got  _ shot! _ You punched a hu-hu-human in the f-f-face! You—You— _ What-What-What is wr-wr-wrong with y-you? _ ” Spine leaned away from her, unable to believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t even remember the last time Rabbit had been so angry, let alone at him. They fought, sure, but it was always petty siblings’ squabbles over who got to sit in what chair or how to pronounce the word “theater.” Rabbit didn’t get  _ angry _ . She was the one who caused others to lose  _ their _ tempers, not the other way around. Besides, he couldn’t imagine what he had possibly done to warrant this. He stuck up for Jon, and then a bunch of idiot humans with way too much testosterone in their systems decided to use him for target practice. In what world was that his fault? Actually, Rabbit should be grateful, someone could argue that he was a hero or a martyr or something along those lines—

“You could-could-could’ve died you—you  _ a-absolute dummins! _ ”

... Oh.  _ Oh. _ That was why Rabbit was so angry. The little sprout of guilt from earlier curled uncomfortably. The Captain noticed the commotion from the other side of the engineer’s tent and approached the table that The Spine was propped up on.

“Rabbit, we need to inspect The Spine to make sure everything’s in working order again—”

“I c-c-can do that!”

“ _ Rabbit. _ ” Rabbit scowled.

“ _ Sir. _ ” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and if he hadn’t been so preoccupied The Spine would have scolded her. Borcic’s jaw tightened visibly in annoyance.

“I understand your reservations, but I must insist you return to your duties, or, at the very least, wait off to the side while my engineers run a diagnostics test. This is an  _ order _ , Rabbit. I don’t want to suspend you for insubordination, but I will if I need to.” Ah, the good old Laws coming into play again. Human soldiers caught harassing and shooting up one of the Walter bots were only docked pay, but an automaton refusing to follow a human’s orders got suspended from active duty. Even Captain Borcic didn’t see them as anything more than unusually intelligent machines. Spine watched his older sister crinkle her nose, steam hissing from her cheek plates in frustration, and wished that he had the boldness to react openly like her. In the end, though, Rabbit hated the idea of not being able to cover her younger siblings on the battlefield enough that she relented, just as Spine knew she would. He watched her stomp over to the corner of the engineering tent loudly and pointedly before sitting on a bench to wait, staring daggers at The Spine, who cringed and quickly pretended not to notice. Even as the mechanical engineers came over and blocked her from his view to perform the diagnostics test he could still feel her stare boring into the side of his head. 

* * *

“It’s all set, Captain. No lasting damage.” The Spine had to suppress a frown at the use of the word “it.” Borcic nodded, then shot a look at the silver automaton.

“You violated the First Law,” he stated plainly, and Spine had to resist the urge to wince. 

“Yes. I apologize, Captain. I was... concerned, for The Jon. I feared the soldiers might... damage him.” Borcic raised an eyebrow, and Spine worried he would question the emotional phrasing. “It was just a glitch. It will not happen again.” The Captain stared him down for a solid five seconds, and if he was capable of it he thought he would’ve started sweating. Finally, though, the man relented with a gruff sigh.

“I see. You will be suspended from active duty for two weeks, but no further action will be taken for now. You are dismissed.” With one last scrutinization that gave Spine the impression of being seen as more than just a machine for the first time, the Captain left, and the engineers returned to their normal duties. He should’ve felt relieved to be off the hook without any reprogramming, but the unfairness of it all still lingered bitterly, and there was still Rabbit to deal with on top of that. Groaning slightly, The Spine pushed himself up from the table and made his way to the entrance, unable to conceal his obvious limp. He was patched up, but a full recovery would take a few days. Rabbit jumped up and hastened to follow as soon as she saw the diagnostic check was over. He hadn’t made it two steps out before she was hounding him once more.

“W-Well? What do you-you have t-to say for y-y-yourself?” 

“Rabbit, I... I was just trying to do the right thing,” he said, but the defense sounded weak even to his own ears. Steam hissed from behind her ear. 

“The ‘right thing’ would’ve been to g-g-get someone’s  _ help _ , d-dummins! Not b-b-break one of the-the  _ Laws! _ ”

“Oh, don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!” Spine snapped back, too tired and irritated to try and de-escalate the situation. “You’re even worse than I am, Rabbit—you talked back to our  _ Captain _ earlier for no reason, and you expect me to believe you would’ve been the responsible adult when there was a real problem?” The steam thickened and puffed out from her mouth too now as she became visibly flustered.

“I-I-I—th-that’s different!” She protested stubbornly, and Spine scoffed. 

“No, it’s really not. I can’t believe you have the nerve to criticize me for my choices when you’re being such a hypocrite.”

“N-N-No—NO! I’m not-not being a h-hypocrite!  _ I’m  _ the o-oldest,  _ I’m  _ sup-p-posed to p-protect  _ you guys _ , not the other-other way around!” The Spine inhaled sharply. The inky black trails of oil leaking from her eyes had returned, but she was too worked up to notice. “You should-should-shouldn’t have to d-do th-that, Spine! I should’ve been th-there! I-I should’ve—should’ve—should’ve—”

“No, no no no,” Spine murmured, pained. He stepped forward and wrapped his big sister’s shaking body in a tight hug. “No, Rabbit—Rabbit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—Rabbit,  _ none _ of this is your fault, you have to know that. You do know that, right?” 

“Should’ve—Should’ve—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get help, I’m sorry I was so reckless,” Spine pressed, the sorrow rolling through him in waves. He had known they were all having a difficult time in the war, but he hadn’t realized Rabbit had been having a crisis of her own this whole time. She was the oldest, the first bot, of course she would feel responsible for the rest of them. She was angry at Spine for being so reckless in the first place, yes, but she was clearly angry at herself too for not being there with him. It was so easy to forget Rabbit’s insecurities and issues when she was so boisterous and silly all the time, but just because they weren’t always visible didn’t mean they weren’t there.  _ God, I’m such an idiot. _

“You’re the best big sister any of us could ever ask for, Rabbit.” Spine rubbed the copper bot’s back, soothing her trembling chassis. “You’ve saved our hides more times than we could count, and you’re always keeping our spirits up and being there for us. I’m sorry if I ever let you think you were anything less.” Rabbit shook her head into his shoulder.

“I-It’s not—It’s not your fault,” she mumbled. “I-I just h-hate this.” Spine didn’t need to ask what “this” was. They both knew. 

“So do I, Rabbit. So do I.”

“An-And it would’ve been so  _ stupid _ if I l-l-lost you at  _ base camp _ ... Not ev-even during the fighting... An-And they sh-shot th’ Jon too, and he’s r-really upset, and I just want o-our family to be  _ happy _ again.” She sniffled, and Spine’s throat closed up.

“Rabbit,” he began without knowing quite what he was going to say. How could he promise her anything when everything was uncertain and scary? When today had proven that anything could go just a little sideways and someone could end up hurt? “I... I can’t promise you much, I don’t want to lie to you. But I promise I won’t do anything like that again, okay? I’ll get Borcic first, I’ll keep my cool, I’ll keep my head on straight. I’ll stay safe, for you. For our family. And you’ll stay safe too, and so will The Jon, and Hatchworth, and Zero, and with any luck the war will be over soon and we’ll all get out of this alive, okay?” He pulled back to look her in the eyes seriously and squeezed her shoulder. “Okay, Rabbit?”

“O-O-Okay,” she sniffed, and immediately yanked him back into a bear hug that left his joints creaking slightly. “How about-about it, Cowboy? P-P-Pinky pr-promise?” Spine chuckled wetly and wriggled one arm out from her grip to extend a pinky finger.

“Sure, Goose. Pinky promise.” They linked pinkies, and Rabbit smiled slightly for the first time in the last hour.

“I l-l-love you Th’ Spine.” Spine swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I love you too, Rabbit.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I got some Rabbit angst in this one too. Not something I set out to do, but hey, happy little accidents!


	5. Important Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important Author's Notice; I know, I hate it when authors do this instead of uploading a chapter too, but this was a hard decision and one that needs to be addressed.

**!!IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTICE!!**

Hi. I know, I know; updating with an author's note instead of a chapter feels like a betrayal and I also hate it. But this is extremely important. I'm not gonna beat around the bush: I am stopping uploading fanfics for the foreseeable future. This was a decision I wrestled with for at least a month, if not longer, and it hurt to make. Fanfiction is a huge part of my life, but the truth is that uploading chapters was more stressful than fun at the end of the day. I ended up holding myself back in writing, worrying that it wouldn't be good enough to post. Then there is my life outside of fandoms. Currently I am taking 16 credits of college classes, prepping for a dual major with voice lessons, working a part time job, doing art commissions, running daily, and leading a club. And that is too fucking much. This was the easiest way for me to take something off my plate. I love you all dearly and appreciate every single comment and kudos I have ever gotten. You should know that if I've seen your comment, it's made me so goddamn happy. It makes me warm and fuzzy inside the rest of the day. I know it hurts to see an author you like stop posting, but the worse thing than that is for them to disappear without notice or explanation. I did not want to do that to you all. I will continue to write in my private life, with this caveat: I will not post stories as I work on them, but rather post them **when they are complete.** This is something other writers have done that I think would be better for me so I can write in my (very little) free time, for fun, without a time crunch, and still eventually post things. This means it will likely be awhile til my next post. Which brings me to my next point: what will happen to my current stories? Well, I am going to take them down until they are finished, BUT if anyone wants to reread them or have them for themselves I will gladly communicate with you to find a way to send you the Google docs. This way you can still have them. I will leave these up for a week to give people a chance to respond if they want to. 

Again, thank you all so much. You are amazing, and fandoms are amazing. And the second I finish a story, you will be seeing it. I love you all, have a wonderful day.


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